"God bless my soul, it is my portrait," Jos cried out. It was he indeed, blooming in youth and beauty,in a nankeen jacket of the cut of 1804. It was the old picture that used to hang up in Russell Square.
"I bought it," said Becky in a voice trembling with emotion; "I went to see if I could be of any use to my kind friends. I have never parted with that picture—I never will."